"Let me cut to the chase. I teach Computer Science at MIT. What you guys are seeing isn't malice, but engineering and economics at work. At the end of the day, Sirius Software is a corporation that needs the goodwill of both customers and the political class to function. What is happening here is a targeted smear campaign by Senator Goldberg. And why? Because Sirius Software refuses to buy into her ideology, and focuses on cold hard science. That is the fact of the matter. This deadlock, is in your hands people. Do we want a Senator who promises a revolution but cannot keep your lights on? Or do you want the guy who does?" asked Ivan to the rapt audience.

  "Let me tell you, as a father of a six-year-old girl. I'll back the guy who keeps the lights on, the water running and the heat on even if he makes all the women who work for him wear leather and high heels, over the politician who can do jack squat except scream for a reckoning without any alternatives. Monica must go!" he shouted, and the crowd was whipped into a frenzy.

  "Monica must go! Monica must go!" they started to chant.

  "Damn, Mr. Zakhrov, I didn't take you for a rabble-rouser," muttered Father Joseph, stepping up to the lectern again.

  "Everyone, please calm down. I appreciate the energy, but it needs to be directed to the right people. Start petitioning the Senate and the other lawmakers in Massachusetts to resolve this deadlock," he said, calming down the crowd and allowing them to safely disperse.

  ---

  "It's good to see you again Ivan," said Father Abel as he, Father Joseph, Ivan and Michael sat in the luxuriously appointed faculty lounge of St. Ignatius Academy, sipping perfectly brewed coffee.

  "Yes it has been a while. How's Kate and Mei Ling?" asked Ivan.

  "Happily married to Andre, and Eliot Thompson respectively. Kate's even got a baby on the way," chuckled Father Abel. His face turned serious.

  "How are you and Annette doing? Those blackouts can't be easy," he asked Ivan.

  "Annette is in denial," sighed Ivan. He took a long gulp of his coffee.

  "You know what's scary? Even though I'm one of the victims, I'm proud of Aaron and what he's been able to do," he said.

  "That we all are, Mr. Zakhrov," said Michael.

  "What's actually happening to Sirius Software? Is Aaron really packing up to shift to Libya?" asked Ivan.

  "As much as Saladin would like that, no. Aaron is staying here, but he is seriously considering pulling the plug permanently and keeping just his compound independently powered," said Michael.

  "I see," said Ivan, his hands trembling as he set down his coffee cup.

  "I know that this is way too little and way too late, but I'm grateful Mr. Zakhrov. I am grateful to you from the bottom of my heart that you have raised a man like Aaron Zakhrov," said Father Joseph, his voice thick.

  Father Abel clapped his hands sharply.

  "As much as the two of you want to wallow in regret, that's not what is needed right now. Aaron himself, doesn't want to be a sympathy case, which is why Michael and I were careful to leave his personal history out of our presentation," he said firmly.

  "I picked up on that when I asked to speak. It still stings though," sighed Ivan.

  "Well, we do have other problems. The police and various activists have camped outside Sirius Software. The entire compound is under lockdown. Aaron's putting up a good front, but he's still just one guy with a corporation versus a big chunk of the government," said Father Abel.

  "I've managed to knock back his indictment charges to house arrest instead, so we're good on that front for now," said Michael.

  "Isn't there anybody else with Monica's reach that we can rely on to get this shit resolved?" asked Ivan.

  "Senator Scott is the other sitting senator for Massachusetts. He's supposed to be trying to negotiate, but he's scared of both Aaron and Monica," said Michael grimly.

  The door to the lounge opened, and Catherine Cormac entered, her heels clicking on the floor in agitation.

  "We've got a visitor with high level diplomatic cover approaching. Saladin, the new Premier of Libya," she said, her voice tense.

  "Relax Ms. Cormac. Saladin is a friend," said Michael getting to his feet.

  ---

  "Let it go, let it go, can't hold back anymore," sang Mikaela happily in the front passenger seat of the Hyundai Ioniq 5, as Annette slowly drove back to the house.

  "I should have knocked the stuffing out of that vicious brat, Aaron, when I had the chance!" thought Annette savagely, flooring the Hyundai's throttle in anger, but the car's ADAS kept it steady at the speed limit.

  She had been able to pretend that Aaron and Sirius Software didn't exist, even when his controversial nuclear power deal with the Libyan warlord Saladin had made international headlines, and Saladin's consolidation of power in Libya complete.

  This time however, Aaron's actions and influence had hit too close to home.

  The fact that Ivan seemed to be secretly enjoying the humiliation of their blackout ordeal, only made her blood boil more.

  The wail of sirens pulled her out of her stupor and she quickly pulled over as a convoy of black SUVs, police motorcycles, and a stretch limousine flying the Libyan flag rolled past.

  "What the hell is happening to this town?" she asked in bewilderment, as Mikaela stared wide-eyed at the massive convoy.

  Curiosity got the better of Annette, and she moved back onto the road, discreetly following the convoy.

  The convoy soon pulled up outside St. Ignatius Academy.

  Annette stared slack-jawed at the huge walls with crenelations that just revealed the gothic spires of the main buildings inside.

  She had known of Aaron's ruthless gentrification of the entire district, but had not seen it up close before.

  "Are we going to that palace Mommy?" asked Mikaela.

  "N-no sweetie, I just got lost," said Annette, quickly turning the car around.

  She drove back home, her hands trembling on the steering wheel.

  ---

  "So, this is the famous St. Ignatius Academy," said Saladin, as he stepped out of the limo, accompanied by a security detail of women dressed in sleek white leather uniforms, similar to the black Sirius Software security uniforms.

  A Secret Service agent in a sharp black suit, with an earpiece in his ear came up to them.

  "Area is secured Mr. Saladin," he reported.

  "Thank you, Mr. Jones. That was rather quick," remarked Saladin.

  Jones fought down a smile.

  "Yes sir, the school's security team knows their stuff," he said, carefully maintaining a neutral tone.

  Saladin nodded, and walked towards the main building, where Father Joseph and Michael were waiting.

  "Welcome, Lord Saladin to St. Ignatius Academy," greeted Father Joseph in fluent Arabic, causing Saladin to raise an eyebrow in appreciation.

  "It is my pleasure to be here," he replied in English.

  Michael and Father Joseph escorted Saladin to the faculty lounge, where he was supplied with tea by a nervous Catherine Cormac.

  "Let me get to the point, I'm here to extend a formal invitation to Aaron Zakhrov and Sirius Software to shift operations to Libya. However, I do not wish to disrupt the lives of ordinary citizens dependent on Aaron's patronage. Therefore, I ask that you give me an unfiltered and accurate assessment," said Saladin sipping his tea.

  "Quite honestly Saladin, if Aaron pulls out, we're looking at the loss of nearly four trillion dollars of revenue," said Michael, handing Saladin a thick folder.

  Saladin flipped through the report, nodding appreciatively.

  "I can see why you would be reluctant to allow Aaron to leave. Very well, I rescind my invitation and offer, and propose that I handle this so-called dispute, as a token of appreciation for the prosperity that Aaron has brought to my people," he said.

  "We'd be honored, how should we proceed?" asked Michael.

  "Jones, extend an invitation to Senator Goldberg to meet me at the Libyan embassy. The negotiations will take place there as neutral ground," ordered Saladin.

  If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  "Yes sir," said Jones.

  ---

  Monica sat red-faced opposite Saladin in a luxurious room at the Libyan embassy.

  "Senator Goldberg, I understand that you do not agree with the business practices and internal policies that Sirius Software implements, but I implore you to consider the very human cost that this conflict has wrought upon ordinary citizens who trust you to represent their interests and govern in their stead," said Saladin.

  "Tell that to those countless innocents your forces butchered in your grab for power in Libya!" spat Monica.

  "This is a closed room negotiation, Senator. Save the rhetoric for the television cameras," said Saladin, studying his fingernails with a bored expression.

  "What the hell is there to negotiate? Sirius Software has engaged in treasonous, unlawful and monopolistic behavior!" snapped Monica.

  "Sticking to that, are we? Have you seen your approval ratings recently? Even a rigged election isn't going to get you out of this particular mess," said Saladin, showing her a set of graphs on a tablet.

  "Why don't you and Zakhrov just get out and go to that shithole you call your country?" snapped Monica, swatting the tabled away. It fell to the ground and shattered.

  "You do know that by saying that you're handing me a four trillion dollar economic engine on a silver platter don't you?" asked Saladin, raising an eyebrow.

  "Like that would actually materialize in your country's corrupt cesspool!" snarled Monica.

  Saladin snapped his fingers, and one of his bodyguards entered the room, carrying a large square metal box.

  Monica swallowed the bile that had risen in her throat at the clicking of the bodyguard's heels.

  "Accept this box as a token of gratitude, Senator. I shall make arrangements for Sirius Software to shift their operations to Libya. You may declare victory to your voters," said Saladin, as the bodyguard set the box down on the table between them.

  Monica eyed the box suspiciously.

  "Go ahead, I'm not foolish enough to bring a bomb or anything so uncivilized," chuckled Saladin.

  Monica pressed a button on the top of the box, and with a hiss, the metal sections opened out.

  A scream escaped her lips as she saw the severed head of Jamal Mozambique frozen in a cube of transparent acrylic. His frozen expression one of mild shock.

  "As a tribute, I shall deliver a batch of one hundred such boxes every month. They contain the hopes and dreams of those immigrants you so graciously blessed us with," said Saladin rising to his feet.

  Monica staggered backwards.

  "Let's drop pretence. Your little plan to destabilize my country with the human refuse from the rest of Africa is dead. Now choose between a fully ascendant Libya or a prosperous Boston. The clock is ticking," said Saladin, surveying Monica's blubbering and pudgy form with undisguised contempt.

  "Fine, I'll call off the dogs," said Monica, tears of humiliation and rage rolling down her cheeks.

  "A wise decision," said Saladin, handing her a phone, and a set of tissues.

  ---

  Saladin's convoy slowly approached the main gates of the Sirius Software compound.

  Word about the negotiations had reached the police forces, and they were slowly disengaging and corralling the more zealous supporters who were singing Monica's praises.

  "And these people have the gall to call Libya uncivilized. Such a shameful display," opined Saladin, watching the police wrangle the crowds away.

  The police and Secret Service finally cleared the crowds.

  The Sirius Software main gates slid open, and the spike strips retracted.

  "Most impressive. It looks like Western civilization hasn't fully died, despite your leadership's best efforts," remarked Saladin to Jones, who was trying hard not to chuckle, as the convoy rolled into the compound.

  Natasha and Olga greeted Saladin with slight bows as he stepped out and surveyed the black base of the Sirius Software HQ skyscraper.

  "Master Zakhrov is expecting you, Premier Saladin," said Natasha, opening the main door for him.

  ---

  "Well, young Aaron. I must say you've weathered your first full scale political attack quite well," remarked Saladin, as he entered Aaron's office with the Secret Service and his own security detail in tow.

  "Yes, well. Thank you for resolving this," said Aaron inviting him to sit.

  "Think nothing of it. Now let's get down to business, this is the information that I was able to extract from Monica's agents in Libya," he said, handing Aaron a USB stick.

  Aaron inserted the stick into his computer and looked over the files.

  "So, these are the main traffickers. The late Jamal Mozambique, and Kenji Nakamura," he observed.

  "Yes. I believe an acquaintance of ours, a certain Hajime Yamamoto is the natural enemy of this Kenji character," said Saladin.

  "Hmm, I think I'll bide my time on this for now. I've still got an IRS investigation to deal with," said Aaron.

  "How is that coming along?" asked Saladin.

  "Pretty well for me, actually. Andre managed to head-hunt a competent financial controller. I'm actually thinking of upgrading him to CFO," said Aaron.

  "Very well, I shall continue to monitor this nexus you've stumbled upon from Libya. I'd love to stay, but I have a meeting with your President Mamba. One of the occupational hazards of becoming a head of state," chuckled Saladin, rising.

  "It was a pleasure to see you, Saladin. Safety and peace," said Aaron, as Saladin left.

  ---

  "Aaron, we've got a problem. Union work crews are ripping apart the power cables in Pine Springs and Boston Public School," said James entering the office.

  "Let them James, if Goldberg wants those districts, she can have them. We'll shore up the ones loyal to us and Michael," replied Aaron.

  "Are you sure about that? They're still within our sphere of influence," said James.

  "I'm sure, James. Besides, Monica isn't ideologically equipped to actually enable the kind of civilization that I provide," said Aaron.

  He flicked open the intercom. "Harry, Margaret, get in here," he ordered.

  ---

  "This about the redevelopment plan Aaron?" asked Harry as he and Margaret entered the office.

  "Yes. Let's go over the plans, we need to cut out both Pine Springs and Boston Public School from them," said Aaron, bringing up the map on his computer screen.

  "That should be simple enough. Pine Springs and Boston Public School are both fairly close to each other, with just two commercial districts between them," said Harry.

  "Those two districts contain mostly consulting firms and NGO offices," said Margaret looking over the map.

  "All right, let's cut them out, we'll develop around those. Harry, beef up the infrastructure, I don't want Monica trying to rip out cables of loyal districts," said Aaron.

  "No problem, boss. We'll make that stuff as indestructible as we can," chuckled Harry.

  "Margaret, how is the expanded feminine professional fashion line coming along?" asked Aaron.

  "We're good to go, Master Zakhrov. We've started production for DuPont Hospitality, and we're on track for mainstream public release with the lower-grade alloy," said Margaret.

  "Excellent," said Aaron.

  He flicked open the intercom.

  "Status on the audit Mr. Singh, I'll need capital for what I'm about to do," he asked.

  "The US operating accounts are clean, Mr. Zakhrov. We're still doing the offshore accounts," came Vikram Singh's voice over the intercom.

  "Good job. I'm starting the operation," said Aaron, clicking off the intercom.

  He turned back to Margaret.

  "Harry, start the infrastructure reconstruction, and Margaret, start your advertising blitz. I want as many women in the districts that I redevelop to be rocking skirts and high heels," he ordered.

  "Mmm, with pleasure, Master Zakhrov," said Margaret, unable to hide her excitement of having such a vision coming to life.

  "All right everyone, let's get to work," said Aaron dismissing them.

  ---

  "What the hell is going on here?" asked Ivan as his Uber taxi pulled into the Pine Springs suburb.

  The entire street was swarming with workers in hard-hats and high-visibility vests.

  Ditches had been dug, and power cables were spread haphazardly everywhere.

  "What's happening, is that unlike you, the people of Pine Springs are not going to live under Sirius Software's tyranny," said Annette smugly, coming to join him in the driveway.

  "And who exactly are these people?" asked Ivan, gesturing to the work crews.

  "They're from the labor unions. Senator Goldberg, has launched a project to power Pine Springs and the Boston Public School district with a new biomass plant" explained Annette.

  "I see, and how long will it take?" asked Ivan, a vein throbbing in his temple.

  "At the pace they're going, I'd say no more than a couple of days," said Annette.

  "Hey mister! Where is the biomass plant?" asked Ivan of one of the work crews.

  "No idea dude, I'm just here to pull out these power lines," said the worker gruffly, as he prepped a pneumatic hammer.

  "Dammit Dammit Dammit! Why does this have to happen now?" growled Ivan, launching Uber on his phone.

  "What's wrong Ivan? Sad that your precious Sirius Software is no longer a monopoly?" asked Annette condescendingly.

  "Do you think a biomass plant is going to materialize out of thin air? Even if you can construct the building in a couple of days, it would take weeks before it is operational!" thundered Ivan.

  "Stop being so damn cynical!" screeched Annette, her frustration with Ivan boiling over.

  Ivan took a deep breath to calm himself down.

  "Can you show me or tell me exactly what Monica Goldberg said?" he asked.

  Annette pulled out her phone and showed Ivan the news article with a smug flourish.

  Ivan's face grew ashen as he read the article that was full of rhetoric, but contained no concrete timelines, and no plans except the one that said union workers were pulling out Sirius Energy infrastructure across Pine Springs, the Boston Public School, and the two commercial districts between them.

  The article also scathingly mentioned that Sirius Construction and Sirius Energy were reinforcing their infrastructure in other districts, particularly St. Ignatius Academy, Fenrir Township, which was Ivan's old neighborhood, and the connecting districts between them.

  "This is going to be bad," he muttered to himself.

  "All right, Annette. This time, you're in charge of paying the bills," he said, as an Uber taxi pulled up.

  "Where are you going?" asked Annette, bewildered.

  "Back to MIT. I've got some stuff there that I need to bring home," said Ivan, getting into the Uber, and speeding off.

  ---

  Ivan returned to the dark Pine Springs neighborhood in a rented Chevrolet Silverado, loaded with more jerrycans of kerosene and bottled water.

  A scared and confused Mikaela was waiting forlornly in the driveway.

  "Daddy!" she wailed, throwing herself into Ivan's arms as he stepped out of the truck.

  "Shh, I'm here Princess, it's OK," said Ivan soothingly, stroking her back.

  Mikaela's sobs slowly subsided, and she looked up at Ivan reproachfully.

  "Where did you go? Mommy is so mad that the lights aren't back," she asked.

  "The lights are not going to come back for a while. That's why I went to get more stuff," said Ivan, gesturing to the supplies loaded in the back of the Silverado.

  "Are we camping in the driveway again?" asked Mikaela excitedly.

  "Sure, we can camp in the driveway again," chuckled Ivan.

  He switched on the truck lights, and plopped Mikaela in the passenger seat.

  "Sit tight over there, I'll go and get the stove and lanterns," he said, and walked into the house.

  ---

  Ivan entered the dark house, the light from his phone's flashlight showed Annette slumped on the dining table, with an empty wine bottle at her feet.

  He moved to the closet in the kitchen and pulled out the kerosene stove and a lantern.

  Annette stirred as Ivan came back to the dining room, carrying both the stove and the lantern.

  "Where were you?" she slurred.

  "Not now, Annette," said Ivan gruffly, walking out of the house.

  He set up the stove and lantern in the driveway, filled them with kerosene, and lit them both.

  Mikaela clapped excitedly as the lantern cast a pale yellow pool of light, and the stove's blue flame flickered under the cold night sky.

  Ivan quickly fetched a saucepan, a can of baked beans, a package of bacon, and a loaf of bread from the house, and started to cook.

  The sound of breaking glass rang through the dark house, and echoed across the driveway.

  "Stay here, and don't touch the stove, it is very hot," said Ivan, getting up and hurrying into the house.

  ---

  "Annette, what the hell?" asked Ivan entering the house, his phone flashlight in his hand.

  He dodged just in time as a wine glass shattered near his head.

  "Curse you! Curse you both!" shrieked Annette.

  "Annette! Calm down!" cried Ivan rushing towards her, as she flung another wine glass at his phone flashlight.

  He tossed his phone onto a couch, and seized her hands, preventing her from throwing more things.

  "I'm tired! I'm scared! I want the power back!" wailed Annette, breaking down in Ivan's arms.

  "Shh, we can handle it together. Don't worry, I'm here," said Ivan soothingly, as Annette sobbed into his shoulder.

  After what seemed like an eternity, Annette, recovered.

  "I'm hungry," she said petulantly.

  "We've got baked beans, bacon and bread," said Ivan.

  Annette, shook her head.

  "I'm not coming out, I'll puke if I smell that kerosene," she said, letting Ivan guide her to the dining table.

  "Fine, but sit tight here, you've got broken glass everywhere," he sighed, and left to fix her a plate.